Nena by Ann Boelter (digital book reader txt) 📕

normal stern manner. Nena sensed disapproval when he looked at her. She tried to read his face to pinpoint the source, but he would not meet her eyes. Was it the girl? Or that she had used the Taymen? She couldn’t be sure. In her current wrung out state, she couldn’t even be sure that what she was feeling was real.

“Yes, Father. It was a long journey home, and I feared pursuit. To avoid recapture, I used the Taymen to stay awake. We have just come all the way from the Great Sea. While we were there, Darna provided me with a small piece,” Nena explained. She hoped the mention of her strict aunt would alleviate any concerns he had about her being a habituate.

Her father nodded. “Then you will need rest. We will talk more later.”

Her aunt, Jalla, rushed forward and hugged her, then held her at arm’s length to take in her whole appearance. “Nena. It is true. You live, and you are well. Come. Both of you. You must eat and rest. You will both share my tent from now on. It will be so nice to have female company and the fresh energy of youth,” her aunt babbled without waiting for a single response. “What a beautiful girl,” Jalla said as she turned to Exanthia and stroked her hair. “And if Nena says you are brave, then you must be nigh as brave as Meln himself. Nena does not speak such words readily.”

Exanthia seemed to melt before Nena’s eyes, responding to Jalla’s soft comforting words. She looked to Nena, awaiting her approval before she followed this new woman. Nena had given no thought to where they would live when they arrived. Her focus had been only on reaching their destination. Though her father’s youngest sister, Jalla, had always been her favorite, and had practically raised her and her brothers after their mother died, Nena balked at the idea of living with her. Her father had asked no questions about her time as a prisoner, but she knew her aunt would have no such reservations. She would expect to hear details of the last few months.

Nena had shared her father’s tent with Ruga before the tournament, but how could she ask that now of Exanthia? Or her father? She glanced back at the young girl who was awaiting her decision, her eyes filled with hope. After everything Exanthia had endured—losing her mother, their hell-bent travel pace, Baldor’s terrifying welcome and then seeing her frightful new chief, Nena knew she could not deny her this. She nodded and they followed Jalla back to her tent.

Jalla dished them each a bowl of rabbit stew. Nena could feel her aunt’s eyes on the circle on her arm as she fluttered around them, but she made no mention of it. Nena knew that would not last. “And did I hear you say you saw Darna?” Jalla asked. “How is she? Is she well?”

“She was when we left. The Sea Tribe was preparing for an impending attack.”

“An attack? From who?” Jalla asked.

“The Northmen,” Exanthia volunteered. “The same ones who held us as prisoners. We delivered a warning to the Sea Tribe to save them.”

Jalla looked to Nena to elaborate, but she was eating mechanically, staring unfocussed into her bowl. “It is early. Would you like to go to the baths when you have finished eating?” Jalla asked.

“I need to sleep,” Nena declined, her response clipped. Even though she knew she would sleep better without the layers of travel grime on her skin, she could not face other women right now. Could not answer their questions or feel their probing eyes on her. Could not see their pity as they imagined her treatment at the hands of the Northmen. Could not hear their suggestions about who she should choose. “I used the root of the Taymen,” she said to excuse her behavior and her absence.

Her aunt nodded. “Of course. And how about you?” Jalla turned to Exanthia. “Are you also too tired? Or would you like to have a nice relaxing bath with me and see some of the village?”

“I am not too tired. I was able to sleep while we rode. Nena let me ride behind her on her horse and held my hands so I would not fall while I slept.” It was clear Exanthia had no intentions of letting Jalla escape from her sight.

“Very good then. You and I will go, and we will let Nena rest,” Jalla said. “And on the way back, we’ll gather more sleeping furs so there are enough for the three of us.”

After the two had left and Nena heard their voices becoming fainter as they moved away, she looked around the tent. It was filled with things she had known since she was a child. Colorful carpets, hand woven in intricate patterns, covered the walls and floor. Large clay pots, filled with grains and herbs, lined the walls along the floor. A tall rack for drying meat stood folded and empty in the corner next to the shelves that held Jalla’s many assorted jars and vials of medicinal ointments and powders. Her survey faltered as it passed over the tent flap. There were the three small red hand prints she and her two brothers had made with war paint on the inside of the flap when they were young.

Her eyes welled with tears. She dashed them away with the back of her hand and shook her head, but they continued to flow. What was wrong with her? She had not cried since she was a child. And she would not cry now. She was home. It had to be the Taymen root that was making her irritable and emotional. She just needed to sleep. Without undressing, Nena curled up on top of her aunt’s furs and closed her eyes.

Exhausted as she was, her thoughts continued to race on. Her father’s words echoed in her mind, over and over again. “There is no reason for